Sea Glass
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ SuFin Oneshots ]] The first time Berwald met Tino, he was called Ella.
1. Sea Glass

The first time Berwald met Tino, he was called Ella.

It had been at a craft fair, the one Berwald visited every Sunday to sell the different wood works he had made over the week. Berwald had set up his table and put out his handmade chairs and sea glass figurines; he sat down expecting it to be a normal Sunday.

It had been for the most part. Berwald had a decent stream of people come to his booth, buy a chair or two, a couple of sea glass sculptures, as well. Berwald was just standing up when a girl approached his table.

She had on a pair of leggings and a long, flowing shirt that was too large for her. She pushed a strand of shoulder length blonde hair behind one ear as she picked up one of Berwald's sea glass sculptures.

Berwald sat in his seat and watched her, lost for words. Berwald was usually lost for words, but this was the only time he knew he should be making small talk. The girl looked up, and it took Berwald a good three seconds to realize he had been caught staring. He looked down sharply.

The girl cleared her throat. "This is so cute! I can't believe you made this." She laughed and picked up another sculpture. "I've been meaning to come over here for a couple of weeks but I thought—" She broke off.

Berwald looked up, curious for the end of the sentence. She put down the sculpture and held out her hand, smiling. "I'm Ella," she introduced.

Berwald shook her hand. "Berwald."

Ella's fingers lingered on Berwald's hand before she quickly drew away. She let out a nervous laugh. "How much for this one?" She pointed at seahorse sculpture she had just been holding.

Berwald's mouth moved faster than he could think. "Nothing."

Ella mouth twisted, and she looked apologetic. "What?"

Berwald shook his head. "Doesn't cost anything."

Ella opened her mouth to protest, when a man slid an arm around her waist. She grinned, showing the man the sculpture. "Isn't it pretty? What's it made of again?"

Berwald, meanwhile, was feeling thoroughly disheartened. Of course Ella had a boyfriend. She was interesting, cute, and had an adorable laugh. "Sea glass."

The man gave a courtesy nod at the sculpture. "It's well made. We should get going." He squeezed her a little closer, and she laughed.

She set down the seahorse. "Bye, Berwald! I'll see you next week, okay? I'm buying the sculpture, though!" She gave him a little wave and then moved off with her boyfriend.

Berwald watched them leave, eyes glued to their arms, wrapped around one another.

…

Ella hadn't come with Eduard today.

"Like the vest," Berwald said as Ella sat in the chair next to him.

Her eyes sparkled and she adjusted her bowtie, laughing nervously. "It's new, thank you! How were the sales today?"

Berwald shrugged. Someone had stolen a very well made chair for ten dollars less than he would have liked to sell it at. It didn't help that every time Ella liked one of sculptures, he gave it to her for free. It was only a hobby, he figured. "Alright."

"So, Eduard and I got a dog. It's this cute, little, fluffy, white one. Look I have a picture." Ella scrolled through her phone and showed Berwald. "She was walking through our backyard, so I sort of brought her into the house."

Berwald smiled. There had been several variations of this story, ranging from cats to birds. This was one of the first times Eduard had agreed to keep the animal, though. "What's her name?"

"Hanatamago."

Berwald looked at Ella, eyebrows raised slightly.

She laughed, putting her phone away. "Don't judge, Mr. Swedish Chef."

…

She'd come with Eduard today.

Ella was wearing a very pretty sun dress and high-heeled boots. Her hair was loose around her shoulders instead of tied back into a bun.

Berwald could see her smile from where he was sitting. "You didn't!" She called, running up to his table. She picked up Berwald's newest sculpture: a little dog made of white sea glass. She examined it, laughing. "Alright, I _have_ to pay you for this one."

"You have to pay for all of them," Berwald said. He had to be very careful. He was pretty stoic most of the time, but he had a bad habit of smiling when Ella was around.

"What?" Ella looked up, confusion and worry clouding her face.

"All of them," Berwald repeated. "Unless you come and grab drink. With me. And my friends. You can bring Eduard. On Sunday."

Ella's face broke out into a beautiful smile. "Of course I will!" She looked over her shoulder, before leaning down conspiratorially. Berwald felt his face blush at the sudden proximity. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," Berwald breathed.

"Can you not tell Eduard? I want to try something," she smiled, and Berwald felt his pulse speed up. She paused, thinking. "Can you do something else?"

Berwald nodded, not trusting his tongue.

"Can… Can you introduce me as Tino? To your friends, I mean."

"'Course."

Ella grinned. "Berwald, you are my best friend." She stood, looking around for Eduard.

Berwald was still in shock. His throat felt very dry. He wondered if she meant that. Was he _really_ her best friend? Wasn't someone's boyfriend supposed to be their best friend? He, the craft fair junkie, was Ella's best friend.

Berwald blinked.

"Do you want me to call you Tino? Instead of…" Berwald trailed off, unsure of himself. He didn't want to jeopardize the best friend status.

Apparently, God was smiling down on Berwald. Ella gave him another adoring look. "Yes, please." She gave him a little wave. "I have to go find Eduard. You know how he is." She rolled her eyes playfully. "We'll talk more next weekend!"

Berwald watched Tino go. He couldn't wait to see her again.

…

"Like the hair," Berwald commented.

Tino had cut her hair into a something a little longer than a pixie cut. She laughed and shrugged. "I was sick of having it long. Didn't suit me."

…

"So, I was thinking of trying the patches," Tino said, playing with one of Berwald's sculptures. "But they cost, like, a hundred dollars a month, and I don't know how I could visit the doctor's that many times without a good reason."

Berwald started setting up the sculptures on his side of the table into a line. He put a sculpture shaped like a horse to lead the charge. Tino laughed and set up his own line, putting one of Berwald's signature seahorses to lead his cavalry line.

"You should tell Eduard," Berwald answered.

Tino rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going to. He's just…" She thought for the word, sliding the seahorse gently across the table until it was in front of Berwald's horse. "He busy and I don't want to worry him."

"It's _not_ worrying," Berwald said, frowning. He made the horse jump over Tino's seahorse. When Tino's seahorse didn't move, Berwald looked up at him. Tino's eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth was twisting. "Tino?"

Tino looked at Berwald and shook her—his head. "Sorry." He smiled, apologetic.

…

Berwald was carrying his table toward his usual spot at the craft fair. The early morning air was crisp and cool. Berwald always loved being the first one at the fair. He could grab the best section.

However, as he neared his spot, he slowed. Tino was already waiting for him there. He was sitting in the grass and dirt, hugging his knees to his chest. Berwald stood for a moment, table still under his arm.

"Tino?" Berwald slowly approached.

"He found them," Tino said, voice quavering.

Berwald put down the table, crouching near Tino. "Them…?"

"The _other clothes_," Tino spat. He made the words sound like a swear, something vulgar. The edge in Tino's voice made Berwald wince. "You know what he did? He accused me of having an affair!" Tino laughed bitterly. "Two years, and he accused me of cheating like that." Tino snapped his fingers.

Berwald didn't know what to say. He sat near Tino, unsure of what to do. He felt useless—he didn't know what to say. Was there anything _to_ say? He felt angry, but he wasn't sure who he was angry at. Not Tino, or even Eduard. Just…

"You know what the worst part is? I didn't deny it," Tino shook his head.

Something inside Berwald broke. He leaned forward and hugged Tino, pulling him close. He didn't know what to say, so he just rubbed Tino's back as he cried.

* * *

**Please let me know if the portrayal of Finland can be improved on. :)**

**Yeah, one shot, from Tumblr. A prompt talking about why Sweden calls Finland his 'wife.' I wrote and AU version. **

**Critiques welcome. 3**


	2. Mondegreens

_You say the sky, the sky's in love with you._

**…**

"You're not going to loot me, are you?"

104 looked out through the crack in the door, the chain right where his eyes would have been had he not been ducking. Berwald wasn't sure how to answer, so he looked down at the plastic bag, and then back up at 104.

Berwald offered the sugar.

104 glanced down at the bag, then back up at Berwald. "Is that cocaine? I'm really sorry, but I spent all my money on alcohol before all the stores got looted."

"Sugar," Berwald managed to choke out.

"Oh. You brought sugar?"

The radio was playing in 104's apartment. Instead of the news—something Berwald had going on a constant, maddening background noise—some happy person hummed to a piano and harmonica. Something about the noise made Berwald's heart melt.

"Store's run out."

104 glanced between the bag and Berwald's eyes.

"Oh, thank you." He shut the door, unlocked the chain, and reopened it. "Sorry, some other guy came through here and tried to barge his way in!" 104 laughed and took the bag. "Luckily, the chain was up, and he wasn't so strong that I couldn't knock the door back into his face."

Berwald's tongue was tied, and he managed a nod.

104 smiled. "You're 109, right?"

"Berwald."

"Tino."

He offered his hand, and Berwald shook it. Tino nodded to something.

"All right, well, I'm trying to book a flight before Matilda decides to hit. Finland's a pretty far ride, and they only have private charters, and I only have alcohol, so… It was nice meeting you, Berwald."

Berwald nodded and stumbled away. His hand tingled.

**…**

"You _asshole_!"

Berwald fumbled for his glasses, tripping over the coffee table and the dog. He fell awkwardly into the armchair before he managed to make it to the door. His glasses were somewhere on the ground, but he managed to unlock the door. Berwald stepped out, arms raised.

Someone was standing in front of Tino's door, and Berwald took a quick step forward.

"I'll shoot you!"

Berwald froze.

"Tino, you're being ridiculous—"

"_Me_? _I'm_ the ridiculous one in this situation? No, ha, no, no, Eduard, you are very, very much the asshole here. Ridiculous one. You're _sick_!"

"Tino," Eduard said, slowly, like he was defusing a bomb, "it's perfectly legal."

"_I'll shoot you_."

"I'm no longer his professor—"

Berwald swallowed. "Everything all right, Tino?"

The two blurry shapes shifted, probably to look at him. Berwald stood a little straighter, wishing he had taken the time to retrieve his lost glasses. The silence was awkward and heavy. Outside, someone broke a window, and a baby whined.

"Berwald," Tino said, voice hoarse. "I'm fine."

Berwald refused to squint at the other figure. "Sure?"

Tino let out a little laugh. "Got a bomb shelter?"

"Tino," Eduard continued, "I just need a few things."

Tino's shape shifted. "Fine. Go."

The light from the doorway disappeared, and the hallway was silent. Outside, the baby's drawl escalated into a cry, and someone hummed soothingly. Berwald waited to see if Tino would reemerge. When he didn't, Berwald retreated into his apartment.

**…**

Tino opened the door, and Berwald's stomach flipped when he smiled.

"Berwald?"

"Brought more sugar."

A small laugh, and Tino took the bag. Berwald felt very tall and very clumsy standing in front of Tino's doorway. Berwald's jaw clenched, and he heard the same song whistling through the radio. Inside, the apartment was a warm and a little messy; maybe a little unused, smelling too much like a hotel.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" Tino asked, opening the door a little wider.

For the past few months, Berwald had imagined what his answer to this question would be. In his head, late at night, he was calm and cool and collected, and he probably didn't look like he was going to be sick. Because 104 was inviting him in, smiling patiently.

"Yes," Berwald rasped.

**…**

"Is… everything all right?" Berwald asked, eyes fixated on the seventh, eighth, ninth glass in Tino's hand.

"Do you remember that guy?" Tino asked, words still strangely crisp.

Berwald nodded slowly.

"He was my boyfriend. We dated for three years. He taught a computer class at his college." Tino knocked back the rest of the drink. "And you know, I thought things were good, but do you know what he told me, yesterday? He said he was in love with one of his students, and that he was leaving me." Tino laughed. "He couldn't make it another week!"

Berwald watched the way Tino's eyes wandered around the room. He had such pretty eyes; Berwald desperately wanted to tell him that.

Tino's eyes met his, and Berwald looked away.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Few months."

"Isn't it funny we haven't talked before a few days ago?" Tino's smile was softer this time. "You have the dog, right?"

"Yes."

The radio replayed the same song, and Tino shut his eyes. "What did you want to do with the rest of your life, Berwald? Before we found out we had three weeks left?"

Berwald's hands shook as he reached for the bottle. "Wanted a family. Some kids."

"Did you have a girlfriend?"

Berwald choked on his drink, and he could feel his cheeks redden.

Tino blinked, then laughed. "Oh, oh, _sorry_! God, I'm so stupid sometimes." He rubbed his forehead, eyes still shut, held out his glass. Berwald obligingly refilled it.

"What about you?"

Tino swirled the drink in his cup. "Hm?"

"What did you want to do? Before…"

For a few minutes, it was just the piano and the humming.

"Did you know, I used to be a mall Santa?" Tino cracked open an eyelid. "Christmas was my absolute favorite time of the year. I used to have to stuff my stomach with fluff." He laughed, leaning forward, closer to Berwald across the table. "I'm going to miss malls."

"'m goin' to miss you."

The song ended, and Tino looked at him. Berwald stared at his drink, mortified. When he glanced up, Tino looked so, so sad.

"Oh."

**…**

"I don't want to die."

Tino was sitting up in bed. Berwald squinted, glasses somewhere on the nightstand. His clothes were all over the room, but Tino had made sure to put his glasses on the nightstand. He scooted closer to Tino, reached a hand up, touched Tino's side.

"'m sorry."

Tino turned, suddenly, and fell on top of Berwald, laughing. "Not your fault."

They laid there, in the dark, hearing the distant _pop_s of gunshots, the glow of a fire. Tino rested his head in the crook of Berwald's neck, and Berwald felt his ragged breath on his skin.

Somewhere, Berwald knew this was a creature comfort, something familiar and nice, but he could push that away, deep down. He didn't have long to pretend, anyways.

**…**

_You see this guy, this guy's in love with you._


	3. Oh

"Hey, have you seen the…? _Oh_."

Roommates were generally a fun thing to have. Cookouts, game night, karaoke night: all things enhanced by roommates. Paying the rent, buying groceries, doing laundry: all things aided greatly by roommates. Abel was one of those people who enjoyed roommates.

So when a cute couple asked to move in, Abel had graciously allowed them to rent the spare room. One man was the adorable Tino, who flitted about the house and sang karaoke like a champ when drunk. The other man was Berwald, who looked like he had committed at least one crime in his life time. Berwald also made chairs and sold them at a craft fair, and made pancakes into smiley faces.

Berwald also cleaned. He knew where everything was. Lost the scissors? Berwald knew. Lost the keys to the car? Berwald most definitely knew.

That Sunday was no different. Abel had the urge to bake a cake and—by God— he was going to bake a cake. Regardless of the fact that it was close to ten in the evening.

Abel was also one of those people who only listened to _certain _rules. Mainly, from one of the psycho brothers who rented the other room in Abel's house. This rule was to "wear the fucking apron or I'm not doing your laundry." The last time Abel attempted laundry, his clothes shrunk three sizes and he had to throw them all out.

So, Abel reached for his apron. It was gone. Understandably, Abel did what he always did: he went to Tino and Berwald's room and walked in.

"Hey, have you seen the…? _Oh_."

Abel did not expect Tino and Berwald to be doing anything. He had expected them asleep. He had expected them knitting. He had expected them shopping online for a child.

He did not expect to see Berwald naked as the day he was born… Except for Abel's apron.

Berwald and Tino stared at Abel. Abel stared at Berwald and Tino.

Tino answered the question. "Yes. We're using it."


End file.
